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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285295">Join Their Hellish Crusade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas'>twoseas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To mirth, to merriment, to manslaughter! [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV), The Addams Family (Movies - Sonnenfeld)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged Up Wednesday Addams, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Addams Family Fusion, Canon-Typical Content, Everyone wants to be an Addams, F/M, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Will Graham is an Addams, but instead i must live vicariously through writing, especially me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:14:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is trying to have it all - a doting partner who only tries to kill him when it’s intimate and interesting, a successful practice with a high mortality rate (even higher since he switched to psychiatry!), an illustrious reputation as North America’s premiere serial killer, and a daughter he snatched right out from under an inferior murderer. </p>
<p>If only Will would cooperate over that last point. Hannibal liked to have his way and a visit from one of Will’s cousins could tip the scales in his favor.</p>
<p>Featuring Will having too good of a time being reticent, Hannibal pushing and prodding, Abigail choosing her own role models, and the Addams family having much to celebrate.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Will Graham &amp; Abigail Hobbs &amp; Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham &amp; Wednesday Addams, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To mirth, to merriment, to manslaughter! [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>764</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Join Their Hellish Crusade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Halloween!! I was watching the Addams family movies and coincidentally saw an image from when Will visits the Lecter estate and the need to continue this universe possessed me like a spooky specter. </p>
<p>I was really torn over aging Wednesday up but then I looked up the age difference between Christina Ricci and Hugh Dancy and photos of her from Lizzie Borden and I HAD to. Also I really enjoyed Penny Dreadful, particularly the first season, so I gave her a few bits of Vanessa Ives’ style. </p>
<p>Please, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hannibal listened to Abigail’s latest halting complaint about the hospital, sympathetic as he could be. He understood her displeasure with the arrangement and he himself felt Abigail was better suited to more personally tailored therapy. There was a reason she kept running away from the facility to find herself in Hannibal’s kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the distance, Alana spoke with one of the facility doctors, her eyes darting disapprovingly towards them every so often. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal’s lips curled at the edges as he turned his gaze towards Will. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will walked with much the same attitude as he always did, though some of his awkwardness around Abigail had subsided. Unfortunately, that meant some of his more tender and paternal feelings seemed to have diminished as well. He engaged in conversation with Abigail with much less warmth, clumsy handed though that warmth had been, and it irritated - the grain of sand in Hannibal’s maw that would need to be manipulated into something smooth if his plans were to reach their intended end. Though Will was undeniably a part of their little group, he stood some paces apart. He didn’t speak quite as often as Hannibal or Abigail and he kept looking off to the side, staring at nothing in the distance of the grounds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Catching Hannibal’s own displeased eye, Will smirked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trying, difficult, beautiful creature. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, Hannibal was an adaptable beast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail mentioned something about hunting deer and her sadness at killing such beautiful creatures. She glanced at Will, calculated but hesitant, and spoke of her love of animals.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The subject of Abigail’s complex relationship to her biological father was barely concealed - practically on the surface, ready to be skimmed up and brought forth for Hannibal’s examination and deconstruction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So of course Will took the most literal route the conversation could possibly take. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I could bring one or two of my dogs to visit?” Will asked, looking lively for the first time all day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail perked up immediately. “Could you?” She turned to Hannibal, reminding him that she was still so young. “Could he?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’d have to ask the facility doctors, I should think.” He leveled a flat look Will’s way. “It’d be unconscionably rude to turn up with two animals and expect them to accomodate us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>rude</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Will drawled, rolling his eyes in Abigail’s direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled, amused, and Hannibal felt grateful for the show of solidarity even if it wasn’t in quite the form he would’ve chosen for the two of them to bond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that Will and Hannibal were together, now that he knew Will knew, now that Will had shed his illness with more ease than a snake shed its skin, there was still so much to do and know and understand. His plans were irrevocably altered, the bounds of Hannibal’s capacity to think on his feet pushed to their limits. His eyes were open and his expectations widened into unfathomable proportions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet here Will walked, rolling his eyes and making snide remarks that could only be considered entertaining under the most generous of considerations. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal loved the infuriating man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps you ought to seek their permission now?” Hannibal suggested to Abigail, indicating with a hand towards Alana and the facility doctor. “While the idea is still fresh in our heads?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll ask!” Abigail rushed off with a bright grin, taking Alana and the doctor aback. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re being difficult,” Hannibal accused, tone purposefully light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I?” Will hummed absently, narrowing his eyes towards a rather overgrown rose bush in a dispassionately interested expression. “Why would I do that, Doctor Lecter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal slid his hand into a pocket, looking through the empty space Will seemed so intrigued by. “You needn’t pretend to me. I know you’re as paternal towards her as ever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe so,” Will allowed, turning to face Hannibal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why the distance?” Hannibal inquired, adopting his most detached expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the shrink, you tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Infuriating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to need to stop punishing me at some point, Will, lest it become tedious for the both of us,” Hannibal informed him, smiling just enough to show his teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will’s own grin widened in answer. “I think we both know that’s never going to happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes dark and heated, Will explained, “We’ve yet to scratch the surface of my imagination when it comes to punishing you, Doctor Lecter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will,” Hannibal warned, voice dropping low. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mon cher</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Will purred back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal’s nostrils flared and he forced himself to turn away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will merely arched a single eyebrow before he too looked away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just out of earshot, Abigail persuaded Alana and the facility doctor with large, shining eyes and earnest pleading. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That kid is a natural,” Will complimented. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s astoundingly good at reading other people and adjusting her behavior accordingly to achieve the effect she desires most,” Hannibal agreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose she had to be to survive Hobbs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal felt his mouth pull into an approving smile when Will didn’t refer to Garret Jacob Hobbs as her father. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still…” Will shrugged, glancing once more in the vicinity of the rose bush. “Pretty impressive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her perceptiveness and capacity for manipulation do set her above the rest,” Hannibal agreed proudly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t look so smug. You didn’t have anything to do with it,” Will chided. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I could have a great deal to do with shaping her raw talent into unparalleled skill,” Hannibal countered playfully. “And so could you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mouth tipping in a barely repressed smirk full of fondness, Will muttered, “You’re incorrigible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal smiled, closed lipped and delighted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail seemed to be doing so-so at convincing Alana and the facility doctor. The unnamed and unimportant doctor folded. Alana, however, was made of sterner stuff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal readied his next attack for the other man, but before he could press his point, Will went tense, head snapping like one of his dog’s catching a scent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment later, honed steel sang its distinct and beautiful melody, its threat resonating through the chilled air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of Will’s hands shot out at the same time he raised the other up towards his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will caught the glinting blade of a dagger between his fingers - the point mere millimeters from one of his bright eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instincts rearing, senses sharpening, Hannibal stood poised for attack as a woman walked from around a hedge, her own hand wrapped around the handle of a woodsman’s knife, the blade aimed towards her heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In perfect synchronization, Will and the woman threw the knives at each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will caught the woodsman’s knife, secreting it away as a genuine smile turned his features as divine as a fallen angel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman hid her dagger, expression unmoving save for the barest of twitches at the corner of her lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wednesday.” Will radiated familial affection. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cousin Will.” The woman spoke, voice like the wind through an ancient, leaf littered graveyard. She reminded Hannibal of home and for a brief, visceral moment he both hated and loved her for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took slow, measured steps, heeled boots light on the grass beneath her feet. She was pale as a corpse with small features - pretty features that could even be called fae like if it weren’t for the dark shadows beneath her eyes. She had the appearance of an antique porcelain doll - hair pinned up with a few simple, elegant braids for decoration and dressed in a black skirt and matching lace edged blouse, the neck buttoned up high. There were only two points of color in her outfit - a faint sapphire pattern on her shirt and the deep scarlet of her nails. From the chatelaine around her waist swung a pair of rusty looking shears, a snuffbox, a glass coffin containing a live scorpion, and several small bottles with worn labels. Hannibal would’ve thought them perfume bottles from their ornate shape and stoppers, but he was able to make out the handwriting on one of them: arsenic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Undoubtedly, this was the Wednesday Addams Hannibal heard so tauntingly little about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Will asked, body going loose and relaxed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t you get my message?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand stitched doll dressed in the exact same outfit he currently wore with only a slight variation in the type of plaid. Its embroidered blue-green silk eyes were wide and all seeing while its mouth was stitched shut with thick, fraying yarn. Jaggedly sewn red thread marked its head, face, shoulder, and stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did,” he told her dryly, lazily swinging the doll by its arm. “Did you get my response?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your dogs are getting faster,” she acknowledged, pulling her skirt to the side to reveal the tattered fabric, shredded and stained with what looked like the rust red of drying blood. “So you should have known I was coming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you were coming in general,” he corrected. “What I want to know is what you’re doing here specifically.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Visiting an old friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the background, a terrified screech tore through the air and Wednesday’s smile stretched in delight, dark eyes lit by a diabolical fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Joel’s here,” Will hummed. “I didn’t realize he was still alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s stronger than I gave him credit for.” Wednesday glanced over her shoulder as the screams grew more frantic and desperate. “I could fix that, but I think I prefer him this way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes it’s nice to torment a familiar face,” Will nodded sympathetically. “You look terrible, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, I wish I could say the same for you.” Wednesday looked him up and down, a disappointed furrow forming between her eyebrows. “Mother was right. You’re looking far too well. I’ll never forgive you for not calling me about the encephalitis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, but I kind of had my hands full,” he shrugged. “Speaking of which, this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a fan.” Wednesday complimented, “I think your work as the Ripper is infinitely more inspired than most other serial killings out there. And certainly here in North America.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Hannibal internally preened at having his alter ego appreciated so openly. If Will’s eye rolling was any indication, the man could pick up on that fairly clearly. “I hope your parents are doing well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She dipped her head in answer then looked to Will. “Grandmama won’t speak to them. I think she took offense to how much they enjoyed their meal.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh oh,” Will murmured, amusement clear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday looked back to Hannibal. “How thoroughly do you inspect your mail?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal’s forehead wrinkled and his mouth flattened in a frown as Abigail came slumping back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Bloom doesn’t think it’s a good idea,” she whined. She caught sight of Wednesday and stumbled to a stop. “Oh. Um, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will made the introductions. “Abigail, this is my cousin Wednesday. Wednesday, this is Abigail Hobbs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pleasure,” Wednesday said, voice and expression giving nothing away. Hannibal was impressed - Will’s cousin rivaled Bedelia and even Hannibal when it came to controlling her features and what they betrayed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Hi, um, nice to meet you.” Abigail, for the first time, looked to Will for guidance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday’s eyes flit between them, assessing. “Your father tried to kill you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail’s mouth went slack at the blandly expressed truth. She closed it and swallowed harshly. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My father never tried to kill me,” Wednesday mentioned. “He left some everyday hazards around the house - exposed wiring, rusty and sharp objects, rotten floorboards, volatile chemicals, and the like. But it’s not quite the same as taking an active interest in filicide.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Um.” Abigail blinked. “That’s nice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unfortunately.” Wednesday’s eyes flickered towards that same overgrown rosebush that once held Will’s attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Are you a teacher like Will?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt there’re any teachers like Cousin Will.” Wednesday turned a more genial look on the teenager. “Living, at least. Do you know he taught me one of my favorite childhood games.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were a natural right from the start,” Will chuckled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail inquired, “What game?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday smiled. “Is There a God?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail hesitated, but seemed too interested to back down. “How do you play?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One single brow arched in a look reminiscent of Will’s frequent expression, Wednesday glanced at Abigail’s scarf covered neck. “You tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail blanched as she touched the cloth with the tips of her fingers, but her eyes held far more fascination than fear. Hannibal’s own interest was piqued at the way Abigail responded to Will’s infamous cousin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will sighed nostalgically. “Did you ever show Pugsley? I regret never getting to teach him myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. He sends his regards.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That bomb took seconds to defuse,” Will scoffed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll be disappointed to hear that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, are you still working at the morgue?” Will informed Hannibal and Abigail, “Wednesday has several medical degrees herself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Hannibal considered the woman, her obvious intelligence, and the clear lack of adherence to what society would consider typical ethical concerns. He had a great deal of curiosity about her work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was fired,” Wednesday stated uncaringly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” Abigail stared at her with growing admiration.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They frown on taking parts home with you,” was her unaffected answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like they’re using them,” Will scoffed, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding her solemn agreement, the woman looked again at the rosebush. “It’s alright, I made duplicates of their keys.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you and Will keep looking at?” Abigail crossed her arms as a sudden gust of freezing air, too cold for the moderately chilly weather, whipped around them. The frigid air snatched at their coat hems, hair, Wednesday’s skirt, and Abigail’s scarf. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your father,” Wednesday and Will said at the same time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Garret Jacob Hobbs?” Hannibal asked for clarification and in an attempt to gently correct Will. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will picked up on it, an irritated edge to his mouth as he brushed the windswept curls from his forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal made a mental note to recreate the image with his pencil and paper later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s dead,” Abigail told them, a hysterical pitch to her voice. “Will killed him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s haunting you,” Wednesday said, not unkindly despite the bland tone. “His body is moldering away, but his spirit remains.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time since meeting Wednesday, the girl looked scared. “I-I don’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually…” Wednesday walked around, head tilted like a curious cat. “He might be haunting Will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has been for awhile,” Will informed them nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. He sent a baleful glare towards the rosebush and the source of preternatural cold around them. Hannibal turned in the same direction, showing a united front against the unseen threat. He had since learned not to doubt Will when it came to the occult. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Abigail moved to keep Will and Hannibal between her and her father’s spirit. The wind grew colder and more forceful, frost forming on the grass around them. “You’ve never mentioned that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In my defense,” Will grumbled. “There was a fifty/fifty shot I was just hallucinating him as my brain slowly cooked itself within my skull.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday cast a glare in his direction. “Some Addams get all the luck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!” Abigail demanded, grabbing the backs of both Will and Hannibal’s coats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The frost became dark ice as Wednesday struggled against the vortex to join them in a closer knit group. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana and the facility doctor came running, both unable to fight the wind and get to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He doesn’t want to be replaced,” Wednesday noted in a disaffected shout. “But he does want to be seen and understood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A complicated man,” Hannibal raised his voice so both Abigail and Will could hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will hit him in the side, unamused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you stop him?” Abigail’s eyes watered from the cold and wind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” Will answered sheepishly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why haven’t you?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s your father,” Will threw his hands up. “It seemed a little rude to banish or trap his spirit after I already killed him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Families can be complicated,” Wednesday contributed without a shred of irony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, which shall it be, Abigail?” Hannibal addressed the young lady with a placid smile despite the growing numbness of his cheeks and nose. “Allow Garret Jacob Hobbs to haunt the land of the living? Or shall you have our dear Will banish or trap him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail hesitated, eyes flickering between Hannibal, Will, and Wednesday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wind died down around them as the spirit of Garret Jacob Hobbs awaited his daughter’s decision. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the difference between banishing him and trapping him?” Abigail asked Will and Wednesday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday pulled a small book from her skirt pocket, a sigil Hannibal didn’t recognized embossed in faded gold on the worn leather cover. “Banishment sends him to the realm of the dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trapping would contain his spirit within some object, aware and awake for every moment of his eternal imprisonment,” Will told her in his most professorial tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wind stuttered in a very human sounding whimper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trap him,” Abigail said at once, voice like steel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mouth stretching in a macabre grin, Will held out a hand. “Wednesday, do you have a bottle I could use?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday took a vial from her chatelaine and unstoppered it. She upended the small bottle, pouring out a green liquid. It hit the frost coated grass and began to sizzle and smoke. Every blade of grass in a meter radius lost its frost, shriveled, and turned brown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will accepted the vial with one hand and held the other out to clasp his cousin’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday wordlessly acquiesced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will and Wednesday trapped Garett Jacob Hobbs’ wandering spirit, the dead man standing little to no chance against their combined determination and talents. The inside of the tinted vial turned a sickly black-brown as if stained with tar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The weather improved immediately, which Hannibal appreciated immensely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday threw the stopper at Will, the man catching it without looking. He closed the bottle, held it up to the light, and shook it slightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal’s excellent ears could discern the echoes of a faint, bloodcurdling scream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here you go.” Proffering the vial to Abigail, Will smiled with all the awkwardness Hannibal had hoped to see again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew Will still wanted to please their young ward-to-be. Hannibal rolled on the balls of his feet, too pleased to contain the joy he felt. He truly enjoyed being right, particularly about things of such importance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail gawked at the vial. “This is my dad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will’s shoulders hunched. “Just the, you know, soul part.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“His body is still rotting away in a swap,” Wednesday said comfortingly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t they take him to a morgue to prepare him for burial or cremation or…something?” Abigail continued looking at the vial, entranced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They did.” A smug lift to her mouth, Wednesday held up a ring of official looking keys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail laughed, high and musical. “Well, he did always want to keep me close.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shoved the vial unceremoniously into her coat pocket before turning her full attention to Will and Wednesday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal couldn’t help but smirk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you both so much!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leapt, pulling them into a firm hug. Will pat her shoulder, uncomfortable with the gesture of affection that had become so rare in his life, but not unhappy. Wednesday merely stood there and said, “I don’t hug,” though she didn’t pull away and there was a slight softening at the corners of her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana sprinted up to them, chest heaving as she sucked in breath after breath. Behind her, the facility doctor was unconscious and splayed out on the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What just happened?” Alana demanded, staring in shock. “And who is this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail beamed, looping her arms through one of Hannibal’s and one of Will’s. “Have you met Will’s cousin? She’s so cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No…” Alana took a moment to even out her breathing. She spoke slowly, carefully, and with a combination of weariness and intrique. “No, I haven’t had the privilege.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking advantage of the opening, Hannibal declared, “Then we should all get to know our new friend better, don’t you agree? Perhaps over dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hannibal,” Alana aimed for scolding, an attempt to curb his indulgence of Abigail’s whims. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal was not to be deterred. “Nonsense. Good food, good company, and several highly skilled medical professionals on hand - what could be better for Abigail’s health?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana exhaled, brow twisted in exasperation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, it would be so much better than sitting alone in my room thinking.” Abigail made her soft, pretty, all-American features look pathetic, harried, and sad - the exact face of an innocent, vivacious girl who suffered through too much tragedy and needed the distraction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana’s tender spirit could hardly withstand the strategically applied assault any more than Hobbs’ spirit could handle Will and Wednesday’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday and Will shared an impressed look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dinner it is,” Will murmured. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would it be uncouth of me to keep a knife or fork?” Wednesday inquired of Hannibal. “I’d like a souvenir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal put a hand to his heart, feeling as sincerely flattered as he’d ever been by someone who wasn’t Will himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one knew him or saw him as Will did. No one understood him so clearly and unflinchingly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That didn’t mean Hannibal couldn’t savor the appreciation of such intelligent, discerning people like Wednesday Addams. And if anything he could only be grateful for Will bringing such a person into his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For that reason alone he ignored Will’s snickering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ms Addams, you’re welcome to take an entire place setting if it would bring you satisfaction,” Hannibal offered graciously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wednesday smirked, a sharp curve like a knife slash. “Call me Cousin Wednesday.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Some Time Later</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look more beautiful than ever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>caro mio</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hannibal complimented, eyes drawn to Will, a moth to the flame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Always the very definition of art, Will looked particularly radiant in his charcoal suit, the lapels an elegant damask. In his pocket sat a hastily folded pocket square of burgundy and black paisley, a nod to Hannibal’s own choice in outfit. The tailored fit and subtle sheen all worked to highlight the lean, classical proportions of Will’s frame while the bit of Hannibal had the doctor’s most possessive inner demons roaring their approval. Will’s skin took on an ethereal paleness - a moonstruck marble statue given life and thought and unfathomable ability. Hannibal could never have crafted such a perfect Pygmalion, not in his wildest dreams, not with a million years at his disposal. Will gazed at him with wry understanding - exasperated, amused, but undeniably affected by Hannibal’s devotion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal was struck anew, forcibly reminded of the night they got together. The love and obsession that filled his chest threatened to crack his sternum and ribs, his own heart willing to maim itself and any who threatened to get in its way in order to occupy the same space as Will’s own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a vulnerable, nervous tick he detested to see in himself, Hannibal pat his suit jacket, feeling for the tell tale sign that the precious item on which so many of his hopes and plans hanged remained safe within the confines of his jacket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind them, Abigail paused at the top of the drive. She craned her neck to stare at the house in awe. They both stopped to allow her the time to study and admire the aged architecture. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa.” She turned her beaming smile onto Will. “You grew up here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For a little while,” he admitted, eyes more luminous than the stars as he regarded their charge. “And I visited when I could.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool.” She adjusted her necklace, a fine white gold chain of Hannibal’s choosing, though the ornamental lure that swung from it was Will’s making and the items he tied together to create it were handpicked by Abigail herself. Hannibal appreciated the symbolism of the gift. Her scar was left undisguised, something Abigail had only recently become more comfortable with in front of Hannibal, Will, and occasionally Alana. That she felt comfortable enough to go without some kind of scarf or covering to Will’s family home was very telling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s not keep them waiting,” Hannibal prompted, smiling down at Abigail and putting a reverent, greedy hand to Will’s lower back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will led them up to the front door, the heavy, creaking thing preemptively opened by a giant of a man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Lurch,” Will greeted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhng.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, it’s new.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” Hannibal greeted with a polite nod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Abigail offered her own shy smile and wave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lurch smiled at them, close-mouthed but pleasant, before stepping aside and indicating that they should enter with a long armed gesture. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome, honored guests,” came a familiar susurrant voice full of smoky warmth and jet black secrets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morticia Addams stood with one hand gracefully draped over the bannister and her hip cocked. She was dressed in an ornately embroidered and beaded dress that hugged her form like crystallized shadow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Abigail gasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not in the house, Abigail,” Will scolded, striding to the bottom of the stairs to hand his aunt down the last few steps. “Sorry about that, Aunt Morticia.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Already forgotten, my darling. Such things are best pushed from our minds as soon as possible.” She offered a hand to Abigail, serene eyes assessing. “You must be Abigail. I’ve heard so much about you. You have to be quite the impressive young woman to have Wednesday rethinking her stance on kidnapping.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal watched Abigail stutter through the pleasantries, the shine of hero worship slowly making itself known across her face. It was hard not to be similarly affected around Morticia Addams. Hannibal suspected he only escaped her thrall through the coincidental fortune of finding her nephew to be far more enthralling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does Wednesday have a child or teen picked out?” Will asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Morticia noted, words crisp and well enunciated. “But we’ll be sure to invite you to the welcome party when she does. Doctor Lecter, how wonderful to see you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pleasure is entirely mine,” Hannibal assured her. “You look positively delectable. You’d make an unforgettable meal, Mrs. Addams.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Promises, promises,” she murmured back playfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful, old man,” came Gomez’s jaunty warning. “I may take umbrage and seek satisfaction.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A saber flew threw the air only to be expertly caught by Will, reflexes quick as ever around his family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gomez clapped his hands in appreciation, mouth curled around a thick, rich scented cigar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I meant nothing by it, I assure you,” Hannibal offered, briefly bowing his head in deference to the man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You better not have,” Will told him bluntly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal raised his arm to quickly deflect the sudden thrust of the saber in Will’s hand. His own reflexes, always well tuned, had never been sharper since becoming Will’s partner in all things, but Hannibal still barely managed to prevent the close quarters attack from doing some minor damage to his suit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No need for threats. You know I only have eyes for you, my dearest Will,” Hannibal smirked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will bared his teeth. “Lunch was pretty good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Testing the weight of the saber in his hand, Will threw the blade towards the wall where it impaled the portrait of a young, hauntingly pretty woman with tumbling curls and eyes that seemed to watch them. There were several other slashes, stabs, punctures, and claw marks marring the painting and the canvas was fraying at the bottom right corner where someone had attempted to rip and tear it from the frame. Hannibal’s amused smile was purposefully ignored. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty good,” Gomez scoffed. “Meals from the Ripper every day and he says pretty good! Slander!.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blasphemy,” Morticia intoned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Defamation!” Gomez declared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The audacity.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The absurdity!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>La folie</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Morticia purred. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gomez’s voice dropped several octaves as his pupils dilated. “Tish, that’s French.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oui</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, Will let his aunt and uncle separate before he asked, “How’s the turnout?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The entire clan is expected,” Morticia informed him. “Most are already present and accounted for in the ballroom, though we have a few stragglers to round up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pugsley and Pubert are out with their ropes and chains as we speak,” Gomez added. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And are either of you going to tell me what we’re celebrating?” Will asked dryly. “It’s not anyone’s birthday, death day, wedding anniversary, first murder, first acquittal, first incarceration, first involuntary commitment to an asylum, or first escape. So what’s the big surprise?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morticia and Gomez shared a look before turning cryptic smiles onto their nephew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not to worry, my darling,” Morticia reassured him. “Why don’t you give Abigail and Doctor Lecter the tour while the boys finish capturing the latecomers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cutting an enthusiastically conspiratorial glance towards Hannibal, Gomez puffed up, a manic grin plastered on his mustachioed face. “Capital idea. Though you might want to avoid the kitchen. Wednesday asked if Doctor Lecter here was going supply some of the food and now Grandmama’s on the warpath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be careful with what food and drink you accept,” Morticia cautioned placidly as she hooked her arm through her husband’s obliging elbow. “We’ll expect you all shortly, but please, take your time. Show them your old room, Will. We haven’t changed a thing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knives, bones, thumbscrews - all where you left them!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morticia looked over her shoulder, a sibylline smile on her pale face. “Oh, and Doctor Lecter? Abigail?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal gave her his full attention. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail did the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome to the family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail’s eyes glistened suspiciously while Hannibal’s own itched with the threat of an open display of emotion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morticia coyly waved her carmine manicured fingers and Gomez sent them an emphatic salute, the couple disappearing into the bowels of the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So will you show us your room?” Abigail asked Will, eagerness itself after taking a moment to regain her composure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m curious myself,” Hannibal told Will, earning a flash of his enchanting eyes and a quicker glimpse of his white teeth before Will stifled the grin. “In what kind of place did a young Will Graham spend his time?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll get there, but first…” Will reached into his suit jacket and for a moment Hannibal felt the icy, plunging fear that Will beat him to the punch, so to speak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead Will held up a brass lighter, old and clearly well loved. He flicked it open with practiced ease, the fire jumping to life at his command. “To Lurch’s room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” Abigail trotted to catch up with Will’s purposeful strides, burning with interest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tonight you might hear about the Black Heart Killer,” Will informed her lightly. His casual tone was betrayed by the maniacal light of his eyes, azure gaze reflecting the flickering flame in his hand. “It’s important that you know that name - and person - means nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Abigail, what have I taught you about abnormal psychology in relation to maternal influence or the lack thereof?” Hannibal inquired in his most patient and expectant educator’s tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail’s answer was interrupted by a metallic click as Will forcefully closed his lighter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful, Doctor Lecter,” Will cautioned with a knowing smirk. “Here I have home field advantage.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To punctuate his point, a suit of armor adorning the hallway dropped its axe down on the space that only half a second before contained Hannibal’s head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice,” Abigail whispered, her own blue eyes lighting up. If Hannibal didn’t know better, he would have thought Abigail and Will related by their own blood rather than through Will spilling her biological father’s. The resemblance was uncanny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s not all I can do,” Will taunted, challenge clear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannibal quirked an eyebrow and pat his chest once more, feeling the besotted racing of his heart as well as the slight weight of the ring he commissioned so many months before. It cost him a small fortune, but it was the best money he ever spent. Even better than when he had his house soundproofed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing but the best for his Will. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And who else for Hannibal but Will?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alana: So, Will...your cousin. Is she seeing anyone?<br/>Will: Is your type strange, unusual, capable of extreme violence?<br/>Abigail: Pretty, well dressed, educated, composed but possibly unstable?<br/>Alana: ...yes.<br/>Hannibal: Actually, I might have the perfect patient for you. </p>
<p>—At the Verger manor—</p>
<p>Margot, pausing mid sabotage of the electric for fratricide attempt number 37: Why does it feel like my life just got sexier, more romantic, and more homicidal?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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